


the demons we're made of

by gingergenower



Series: doctor/mafia au [2]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drinking to Cope, M/M, Mafia!Magnus, Medical Procedures (mentioned), Police Brutality (mentioned), Racism (mentioned), Slow Burn, doctor!alec
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-29
Updated: 2018-11-29
Packaged: 2019-09-02 07:01:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16781986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gingergenower/pseuds/gingergenower
Summary: "Heroes aren't supposed to save the monsters, Alexander.""Heroes save everyone."





	the demons we're made of

**Author's Note:**

> your response for part 1 was overwhelming, thank you so much <3 so here's a part 2!
> 
> also, title stolen from [Hold On](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1r79eaANM_o) by Chord Overstreet

Alec’s first drink of the night is gin, neat. He savours it as he leans against a nearby column, watching the crowd. The pulsating, hungry beat of the music buzzes underfoot, lights flashing in time, and a guy at the edge of the dancefloor catches Alec’s eye.

Hips swaying to the beat, grin wicked, his fingers run through his own hair, lazy and at ease and inviting; he’s attractive and willing, but unaware of Alec, and Alec doesn’t make a move. A fast fuck in the restroom isn’t going to make him forget.

Exhaling, Alec looks down before the guy notices him. He might just go home.

His sister said he should get out and dragged him along with her and her boyfriend tonight. Simon’s got their names on the list for this place; he said his band manager knows someone, and Alec was a bit sceptical- Simon’s geeky and over-enthusiastic, Pandemonium’s underground and exclusive- but the doorman recognised Simon before he even said his name. Izzy kissed his cheek, squealing and pulling him off for a celebratory shot at the bar once they were in, and Alec let them go.

Remembering the drink in his hand, Alec knocks the rest of it back and leaves the glass on the nearest table, more focussed in his search, looking for Izzy as he wanders deeper into the club. He’ll tell her he’s too tired, he can’t do this, he’s got to go back. It’s not even entirely a lie.

On the far side there’s seats and booths, away from the door, and Alec gives them nothing more than a cursory glance. Skimming unfamiliar faces, none of it especially interests him until his eyes land on a loveseat up near the back.

It’s been over two months since he found Magnus on the street. He never came back and Alec never called the number he was given; he brought it up with Izzy once, and she was pretty disturbed by the whole thing. She deals with plenty of corpses who insisted ‘no hospitals’. When he found Magnus, Magnus didn’t look like this.

His index finger idly traces the rim of his glass as he watches the room, hands adorned with rings, and his shirt’s buttoned to the throat. Leg hooked over the arm of the chair, the careless indifference is carefully composed, but Alec recognises that unwavering gaze. He still feels it under his skin.

Not sure what to do, Alec considers keeping walking, looking for his sister, leaving- but Magnus catches him staring, expression is indecipherable. The hand on his glass stills, and after a moment, he turns his palm upwards and beckons Alec over with one finger.

Alec nods, sidestepping a couple at a table and skipping up the steps to join him. He’s not even sure what he’s going to say to the man who slipped out of his apartment two months ago after an hour of conversation, but he wants to find out.

Sat upright and offering Alec his hand to take, Magnus tugs Alec to sitting with him, moving closer, glittering eyes holding Alec’s in the low light. “Hello, Alexander.”

“Hey, Magnus,” Alec says, rougher than he expects. “You look good.”

“Thank you,” Magnus says, as he catches the attention of a server behind Alec. “I had an excellent almost-doctor. What are you drinking?”

“Gin. And I don’t think it’s a testament to my skills that I dragged you off the street and you didn’t end up dead on my couch.”

Eyes warm with amusement, Magnus doesn’t look away from until he’s already halfway their order, asking the server for a bottle of gin (‘a good Chase’) and another glass. The expectation Alec’s staying long enough to split it isn’t unwelcome. It’s a better plan than the one he had.

Once the server disappears, Magnus turns back to Alec. The humour’s softer, expression more thoughtful as he searches Alec’s face, taking him in as though there’s something specific he forgot about him from the last time they met.

“How are you, Alexander?”

Alec- hesitates. There’s a number of answers he could give with varying degrees of honesty, but he settles on the one he parrots to Jace and Izzy and his mom and anyone else who asks; “fine. How are you? Your ribs?”

“I’m well. Like I said, you saved me,” Magnus says, taking the bottle the server puts on the table in front of them and pours a measure for Alec, topping up his own.

A bitter voice in Alec’s head whispers that Magnus, at least, was someone Alec _could_ save. Clenching his jaw, he takes the glass Magnus offers him and drinks half of it one go, burn in his throat not enough. “Yeah.”

Magnus relaxes back into the seat, but he’s watching Alec through too-knowing eyes. “What is it?”

Alec started his six months in paediatrics two weeks ago, and he knew it was going to be hard. There are whole wards full of five years olds, sick and in pain, but they’re still kids; excitedly watching Spider-Man on one of the parent’s laptops, convincing the nurses to help them all set up around the screen, they hush anyone who talked over it.

They answer Alec’s questions about Harry Potter _very_ seriously and talk for hours about what they’re asking for from Santa this year and introduce him to their favourite cuddly toys. There are wards full of teenagers, too, irritated and bored and tired, who appreciate Alec’s distaste for bullshit and his sarcasm and the fact that he talks to them like real people.

He wants to specialise in paediatrics, so he prepared for the inevitable tragedy that kids die too. He just wasn’t ready for any of the rest of it.

Alec shakes his head. “Do you know what time it is?”

“Ten past eleven,” Magnus says, checking his phone, glare off the screen lighting up his face. “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

“No.” Glass touching his lips, Alec’s about to drain his drink, but he doesn’t tilt the glass to drink. He shouldn’t have had even this much- numbness can’t get him through, not even once. No doctor can help when they’re on crutches of their own. Alec slowly lowers it to his lap. “I’ve been assigned to paediatrics, the ICU there, and ward three, bed four. There’s this kid.”

His gaze flicks to Magnus- attentive and careful and sincere, he’s listening- and back down to his glass, because he’s not sure he can hold eye contact like that.

“He’s on 48-hour observation and then he’s getting transferred out of my ward.”

“Where to?”

Alec smiles, and it’s brittle and bitter. “A detention centre somewhere.”

“What for?”

“They busted him and his brother dealing. They ran away,” Alec says, aiming for detachment and landing somewhere near viciousness. “So the cops shot them in the back.”

One of the nurses Alec answers to, who’s been on the ward over ten years, said Alec will see that more often than he’d think in paediatrics. He wasn’t even sure if she meant kids getting shot or black kids getting shot by cops.

When Magnus speaks, there’s calm in his voice, but it’s forced. “…his brother?”

“DOA.”

“How old…?”

“His brother was seventeen. My kid’s fourteen.”

One of the bullets went through his shoulder, barely missed his cephalic. The trauma surgeon said there were three millimetres it in- three millimetres higher and he’d have bled to death on the street, nothing any nurse or doctor or paramedic could’ve done for him.

After a moment, Magnus leans forward to put his glass down, and Alec sees the effort he puts into seeming flippant as he sits back. “So why did you ask the time?”

“He’s got six hours left on the ward, and then the cops are taking him away.”

Fiddling with one of his rings absentmindedly, Magnus doesn’t say anything. His expression’s calculating, his eyes focussed on something other than the room, and his fingers pause when he asks another question. “Where did this happen?”

“Williamsburg.” It was about fifteen blocks from Alec’s apartment. He wasn’t on shift then, if he’d known, if he’d been on scene in a few minutes, the brother might still be alive-

Magnus sees Alec’s face and seems pulled from his own thoughts, hand resting on Alec’s thigh to comfort, voice soft. “It’s not your fault.”

Alec huffs a laugh, but he doesn’t smile. “I know.”

“Look at me.”

When Alec doesn’t, the hand leaves his thigh and forces him to meet Magnus’ gaze, tips of his fingers guiding Alec’s jaw.

His eyes, dark and intent, keep Alec there. “You can’t save everyone, Alexander.”

This Magnus- otherworldly, beautiful because he’s untouchable and yet he’s touching Alec- seems so different to the man he remembers. That night’s a blur but he can’t forget Magnus’ gold skin and insistent hands and warm lips, the recklessness he inspired in Alec just by a few, well-placed words.

“I can try.”

Magnus watches Alec’s expression for a few moments, then lets his fingers fall, looking away and down. The small rejection shifts something in Alec and he frowns, not sure what he did, catching Magnus’ wrist before he can go too far.

“Hey.”

Magnus doesn’t immediately respond, staring unseeing at the crowd, and then he speaks very deliberately, only meeting Alec’s eye halfway through. “I’d appreciate if you stop looking at me like that. You can fuck me any way you like tonight, but let’s not pretend this is anything else.”

Alec- doesn’t pull back. There’s something familiar about his tone, crude to shock- and he remembers a man promising him sex because he thought he owed Alec a debt, and he remembers an unwillingness to speak his emotions aloud, and underneath it all, Magnus isn’t nearly as different now as he would like Alec to believe.

“I thought this was just friendly conversation about kids in hospital,” Alec says, and dry, and Magnus doesn’t even hesitate.

“No, this is foreplay.”

Alec raises an eyebrow at Magnus, who cracks after a few seconds, biting his bottom lip to hold back a laugh, shaking his head.

“You’re determined, aren’t you?”

“To do what?”

Watching Alec over the rim of his glass, Magnus considers. “I’m not sure yet.”

“Let me know when you are,” Alec says, and Magnus glares, but he’s still smiling.

“I will. Although perhaps it would be kinder of you to simply tell me your intentions, and save us both some time,” Magnus says, and Alec shrugs.

“What do you want to know?”

Magnus gestures as if plucking the first question he finds in the air. “Why did you decide to join me tonight?”

“I was going to go home anyway,” Alec says without thinking, but Magnus only smiles at his honesty.

“I’m surprised you recognized me, in truth,” Magnus says. He openly checks Alec out, taking in his shirt and jeans and beat-up boots, but Alec hardly feels disappointing under his scrutiny. His eyes darken, fingers circling the rim of the glass again. “But I remembered you.”

“I couldn’t forget you.”

The ease in Magnus’ face fades, and he pauses for a few moments, as if waiting for a punchline Alec won’t give. When there is none, he swallows and looks down at his drink. “I suppose I did make quite an impression.”

“Yeah,” Alec says. Affection is rarely something he expresses physically, especially outside of his family, but he takes Magnus’ hand and threads their fingers together, soft skin and smooth rings against his. Magnus seems a little disbelieving, eyes moving from their hands to Alec’s face, but he doesn’t pull away. “I think you’re just sort of like that, though.”

The card Magnus left in the apartment is still in Alec’s wallet. He never did figure out what ‘need’ meant, so he didn’t use it, but he couldn’t throw it away; he couldn’t bring himself to.

Magnus’ thumb strokes up and down the inside of Alec’s index finger a few times, a soothing reflex more than a conscious decision. As he looks at Alec, his expression changes, vulnerability to some other emotion he tries to keep in check, mouth turned up in an imitation of a smile.

“You should go.”

It’s the last thing Alec expected. “What?”

“You should go,” Magnus repeats, playing with Alec’s fingers a little more thoughtfully, and he speaks as if it’s only observation. “That night, you should’ve left me, but you didn’t. So you should walk away now.”

Alec pauses. There were days on the first six months of placement where he couldn’t breathe for thinking he’d have to quit because he couldn’t handle it, because he couldn’t save someone, but he never did because he couldn’t give up on other people like that. He wouldn’t have walked away from Magnus if there was a gun pointed at his head.

“…Magnus, I don’t-”

“Heroes aren’t supposed to save the monsters, Alexander.” His words are soft, smile more real when Alec’s fingers tighten around his, and Alec doesn’t understand.

“Heroes save everyone.”

Tilting his head, looking through his eyelashes like he doesn’t know the effect he has on Alec, Magnus seems unable to decide what he’s feeling.

“Magnus.”

Alec startles at the sharp voice, but Magnus doesn’t so much as flinch, too intent on Alec, ignoring the intense-looking man standing behind him.

“Excuse Raphael,” Magnus murmurs. “He has terrible timing and a distinct lack of manners.”

“Tonight’s toy can wait,” the man, Raphael, says, impatient and pissed off, motioning to Alec, barely glancing at him. “Magnus, there’s a- Lightwood.”

At his name, at Raphael’s double-take, Alec narrows his eyes. “Do I know you?”

“No,” Raphael says.

Magnus turns to him. “Is it important?”

“It’s Greenpoint,” Raphael says, finally tearing his stare away from Alec’s face, fixing back on Magnus. “Again.”

Magnus clenches his jaw. “How many?”

“Six.”

The exchange means nothing to Alec, but he lets Magnus go when he pulls his hand free to stand up and button his jacket. He only just catches the muttered ‘who do they _think_ they’re dealing with?’ aside to Raphael, but Magnus turns back to Alec.

“I’ll be five minutes," he says, the unspoken ‘stay’ an order.

Alec nods, and watches them walk away. They disappear through a door across from the table marked as ‘private’, and Alec glances down at the bottle of gin Magnus has left him with. There’s so much he doesn’t know about Magnus. He’s not an idiot, he’s deeply aware of it, but it’s almost like he walked down that alleyway and he can’t back out even now.

His phone buzzes with a text from Izzy, asking where he is and if he’s ok, and he puts his glass down to answer her. He’s only halfway through his response when Magnus comes back, picking up Alec’s glass and finishing it himself, wincing.

“Everything ok?” Alec asks, slipping his phone back in his pocket.

“Fine,” Magnus says, dropping back in the seat next to Alec, facing him. One arm rests behind Alec’s head, along the back of the couch, and the other’s on Alec’s thigh; Magnus so close Alec can see a few grains of glitter on his cheek. “Are we ready to go?”

His voice is rough and low, but not with want. It’s emotion, hurt stuck in his throat, something cold and regretful in Magnus’ eyes.

“Not right now,” Alec says softly. “What’s wrong?”

Magnus smiles, but it’s in flippant condescension- an attempt to distance himself, a tactic Alec recognises in his own sarcasm- and nails scratch the surface of Alec’s jeans lightly to make him shiver. “Oh, darling. I can think of much better things you could be doing with that pretty mouth than talking.”

It’s sleazy- nothing like the charm of a man who told Alec he’s cute when he concentrates- but Alec doesn’t so much as flinch because it’s what Magnus wants. He’s not giving up yet. “You know I just bled all over your couch too, right?”

Magnus hesitates.

“I don’t-” Alec swallows, and forces himself to keep talking “-I _never_ say any of that stuff out loud.”

Like he didn’t know Alec felt the same, as though they haven’t had this from the moment Magnus told him his name, Magnus doesn’t look at him. “I know you want to save me, and I appreciate it,” he murmurs. “But you’re too late.”

Alec frowns, finger tightening around Magnus’ hand when he goes to pull away. “Magnus-”

“And I don’t want you to try.”

Phone vibrating in Alec’s pocket again, he knows it’ll be Izzy. He’ll only get a series of increasingly frantic texts until he answers, but he doesn’t move. “I don’t understand.”

“There’s a lot I haven’t told you,” Magnus says evenly.

“So tell me what happened in Greenpoint.”

“Please, Alexander. Don’t.”

“Tell me.”

Magnus closes his eyes, shaking his head minutely. “Trespassing.”

“Trespassing?”

“When my father died, he left me the family business. Brooklyn.”

Alec frowns. “As in the borough?”

“It’s mine,” Magnus says, quiet. “And, for some reason, people are forgetting who I’m the son of. They think they can challenge me for the throne.”

In his naivety, Alec can’t quite work out what Magnus isn’t telling him. “There is no throne. This city belongs to its people.”

“Alexander.” His expression becomes imploring, as though asking Alec not to make him say it out loud. “These streets are mine.”

Dropping Magnus’ hand, flinching back, Alec can feel his heart pounding. The phrasing’s enough. The man who cast himself as a monster, who came across as dangerous with broken ribs, who ended up beaten up on Alec’s doorstep-

It makes sense.

“…are you sure you should be telling me this?”

“I’m not afraid of what you might say,” Magnus says, regarding the hand Alec’s just released with passive disinterest. It’s almost like he’s tired. “Cops can be bought.”

It’s not even a threat, it’s only speaking from experience, and the corruption of the people sworn to serve and protect doesn’t even seem to faze Magnus, but it disturbs Alec. He knows cops aren’t always good people, some doctors aren’t, but how could they act against _everything_ they’re supposed to stand for-?

And then he makes a connection that lands a hit.

“The kid. The kid on my ward, him and his brother were dealing. Were they…?”

“Trespassing? Yes.”

Alec feels sick.

Doctors are meant to save whoever’s in front of them, it doesn’t matter who they are or what they’ve done. But- if he’d known, if leaving Magnus in that alley would’ve saved those kid’s lives- would he have done it?

Standing up, not even really aware he’s doing it, Alec walks, not so much as looking back, he doesn’t even know how to handle this. He doesn’t stop moving until he’s out, weaving through the crowd, dodging past the bouncers on the door and hailing a cab. Zipping up his jacket, about to whistle for a cab, someone turns him around.

Expecting his tiny sister tottering in high heels, he sighs. “Izzy, I- oh.”

Raphael’s wearing a suit as nice as Magnus, and he clears his throat, offering his hand to shake. “We haven’t formally met. I work for Magnus,” he says.

Alec’s gaze flicks from Raphael’s hand to his face, and he chooses not to take it. He doesn’t want to have this conversation, he wants _out_ , he doesn’t want to think about this.

Raphael’s jaw hardens, but he lets his hand drop without comment. “Look, Lightwood, I just- I wanted to thank you. For that night.”

Alec doesn’t really know what to say. Every person who dies at Magnus’ hand is as much Alec’s responsibility now; he can’t say ‘you’re welcome’.

“I’ve scraped him off the sidewalk a few times,” Raphael says, still ignoring Alec’s attitude, “but I couldn’t make it that night. He needed me and I couldn’t do anything, and when I got to that alleyway and he was gone, I really thought-”

Alec watches as Raphael composes himself, not looking to Alec until he does.

“Thank you. I owe you.”

“I don’t want your gratitude or your debt,” Alec says, low but certain. “I don’t want anything from you.”

Irritated, Raphael presses his tongue in his cheek. “It’s not like that. You don’t understand- in our world, if someone saves your life, you owe them that in return, you can’t forgive a debt like that, it’s about honour-”

“In my world, if you save someone’s life, you’ve already done it four times for four other people that day.”

“-look, you can’t understand, you don’t know what you did that night, but-”

“I know enough.”

Raphael hesitates, suddenly watching Alec’s face carefully. “What did he say?”

Aware that he’s dealing with a criminal that might kill him and ditch his body in the Hudson, Alec says nothing, but Raphael tilts his head, looking back the club like he knows, and his voice softens.

“He never lets himself have anything. Not even you.”

“What?”

Raphael sighs, smiling bitterly to himself. “It doesn’t matter. Just- go, Lightwood.” He turns, striding right past the bouncers and disappearing inside, in the crowd.

Alec stares after him, not sure what the hell just happened, but his phone buzzes with another worried text from Izzy and it’s freezing cold, so he hails a cab and tells the driver his address as he answers her.

_I’m fine, just gone home. Have a good night x_

When he gets to his apartment, he drinks until he passes out.

***

Two days later, getting into his scrubs fifteen minutes before his shift starts, Alec hears the locker room door open and someone flick the kettle on in the break room area. He had the same idea, so once he’s clicked the padlock on his locker closed he heads over, and it’s just Caterina.

She’s an experienced nurse Alec knows best on the ward because he saw her around in the ER too. The job’s toughened her up, but she’s never lost her compassion, or her patience, or being gentle. He wants to emulate her example as much as he can, tries to in everything he does on the ward.

He makes himself a coffee while she leans back against the counter, hands curled around her mug, and he joins her, companionable and quiet.

“How is it?”

“Busy,” she says, sipping. “But it’s going fast.”

Alec nods, staring straight ahead. Busy is supposed to mean less time to make jokes, to listen to the kids, to coax them into accepting whatever injection or medicine they need, but it just means Alec doesn’t take more than ten-minute breaks.

“Who’s on bed four now?” Alec asks, trying to force himself to be casual, trying to pretend he hasn’t been thinking about it all weekend, but Caterina knows how much it matters to him- and she glances up, smiling over her mug.

“Gunshot victim, fourteen.”

Alec blinks. “-what?”

“He’s still here,” Caterina says, seeming casual but Alec knows it matters as much to her as it does to him, she’s just better at hiding it. “Some fancy lawyer came in here about midnight on Saturday, demanding his cuffs get taken off and he stay in our ward for the remainder of his recovery. Apparently, some cop lost a bag of evidence. All the evidence against the kid- DNA, his clothes, body cameras, _everything_ \- is gone. They can’t find any of it.

“Apparently, they’re trying to put together a case on how he made all the evidence disappear, but he’s got a pretty solid alibi considering he was chained up here the whole time, and they don’t have a lot of leads. He’s just a kid, he doesn’t have any real connections, it was his brother in with some gang up in the Bronx. It looks like they’re just going to have to let him go.”

She drinks again, and Alec doesn’t even know where to start. He puts his mug down because his hands are shaking.

“…how is he?”

“Eating, finally,” she says. “Sleeping. Started doing some physio.”

Alec swallows, scrubbing his face with his hands and exhaling. He hasn’t slept thinking about that kid, hasn’t been able to get that image of him- lying on his side, cuffed to the bed, tears streaming down his face- out of his head.

Can’t help but find new ways it’s his fault.

Not even saying anything, just upping and walking away, Alec lets her think he’s crying and fumbles with the padlock to get it open, fingers trembling as he pulls his phone and wallet out of his bag.

Typing the number on the card in his phone, screwing it up three times, Alec sends the text as soon as it’s written and gets a response in seconds.

_You saved him._

_You’ve got the wrong number._

Alec checks against the card, sitting down on the bench behind him. _I haven’t._

_Can I help you, Alexander?_

_I want to know why you did it. You said he was trespassing._

_He was._

_So he works for someone else._

_And? He’s a child, Alexander. Surely you’re aware? You’re the one who works in paediatrics, after all._

Alec doesn’t even know where to begin; there are too many questions. _Magnus. Please._

It takes longer for the next response to come through- Alec almost doesn’t expect one- but the phone vibrates in his hand again.

_Maybe I want you to owe me._

_You didn’t do this for either of us._

The next text takes even longer to reach Alec- he’s about to put everything back in his locker, head out to the ward- and it ends the conversation, but he doesn’t want to answer. He just reads and rereads it, saving Magnus’ number to his contacts.

_No. I didn’t._

**Author's Note:**

> writing this is so much fun, even if it's seriously challenging. so part 3's in the works!


End file.
